


Best Nights and Worst Fights

by starrynightwrt



Category: Bumilangit Cinematic Universe, Gundala (2019)
Genre: 3000 words of me not knowing how to be a competent writer, M/M, but im not rly that motivated for a thorough edit, i guess you can call this a domestic fic, i havent written in awhile its a mess, i just wanna write abt them cause i love them, im sorry, relationship throughout times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22317952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrynightwrt/pseuds/starrynightwrt
Summary: This house was built of love and commitment. It was meant to be a safe haven, for both Hasbi and Dirga. A place to wind down after a long day at work,  a place to take shelter from the hustle and bustle of the outside world, a place to call home. The mint green walls had bared witness to each and every one of their best nights and worst fights.
Relationships: Dirga/Hasbi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Best Nights and Worst Fights

The four glass of gin that Hasbi had downed before bed couldn’t quite blur his mind of what had happened last night but it sure made his head heavier than what he remembered. As he gathered his consciousness, he started recalling details from last night; the confession, the honesty, the _fight._ Hasbi turned to the side, finding a cold and empty bed next to him, sheets neat and tight on that side. 

Hasbi drag himself out of bed, when he got to the bathroom, the half empty toiletries cabinet gave him a peculiar nudge -- it didn’t feel right. Dirga’s bottles of colognes, deodorant, facial wash, and pomades were no longer sitting there next to his own lines of grooming products — it looked weird and empty — even his toothbrush sitting alone inside the cup on the side of the sink looked lonely. The sight sorta brought him back to the first night he and Dirga had moved into the apartment. 

* * *

> “Mas,” Hasbi called out, putting down his cologne on the second shelf of the bathroom cabinet, noticing how the top two shelves — his shelves — were almost full, while the bottom two — Dirga’s shelves — were only filled with one deodorant and a comb, “barang-barang mu cuma ini aja?”
> 
> A second later Dirga appeared in the doorway, still holding a half emptied box of clothes in his hand, “ada apa, Bi?”
> 
> “Ini lo, barang-barang mu, cuma ini aja?” Hasbi repeated his question.
> 
> Dirga nodded, eyebrows joined together in confusion, “iya, kenapa memang?”
> 
> Hasbi threw one last look inside the box in front of him, making sure there was nothing left, assuring himself he didn’t leave anything behind, “cuma deodoran sama sisir?”
> 
> Dirga, again, nodded. Still looking quite confused. He walked in, checking his shelves, “iya, memang mau apa lagi?”
> 
> Hasbi shook his head, throwing his partner a disappointed look. He knew that Dirga wasn’t the kind of person who paid much attention to self care in the first place, but he didn’t think that this was the extent of his disregard. Like, for real, deodorant and comb? How was it possible for him to fall in love with Dirga in the first place — it probably had to do with that sweet-talking mouth of his. It sorta amazing how he managed to look decent with the smallest amount of fucks given. 
> 
> “Ya cologne mungkin atau pomade gitu,” Hasbi said.
> 
> “Itu aja udah cukup, Bi.”
> 
> “Ya tapi, mas-”
> 
> “Itu aja udah cukup,” Dirga repeated, a smug smile across his lips, “toh, tanpa cologne dan pomade pun kamu kepincut sama saya.”
> 
> Hasbi’s lips formed a pout, his hand lightly threw a punch on Dirga’s arm, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing at Dirga’s statement, “apaan sih, mas.”
> 
> The older man laughed, teasing, “loh, bener kan?”
> 
> Hasbi refused to feed into the man’s ego, “ya terus masa sabun cuci muka aja kamu ngga punya, mas? Kalau cuci muka pakai apa?”
> 
> “Ya pakai sabun mandi, Bi. Masa sabun cuci piring, sih.”
> 
> Once again, Hasbi threw another look of disappointment towards the man, shaking his head in disbelief. He had made a mental note on that very second to take Dirga for a shop later that week.

* * *

Hasbi snapped out of his reverie when his hand accidentally knocked down a toothpaste off the sink counter. With a sigh, he picked it up, unscrewing the cap, before putting a generous amount of paste on his brush. He tried to focus on his reflection in the mirror — distracting himself — realizing, god, he looked awful. He looked well past exhausted and weary; a complete mess. He hadn't looked like this since the night of his college graduation where he got drunk on twelve different kinds of liquors.

After brushing his teeth, Hasbi undressed himself and went inside the shower — setting the water to the coldest temp to clear off his headache.

* * *

> “Hasbi.”
> 
> The voice calling from the bedroom was cold and assertive — missing the hint of affection that used to linger there whenever it was saying this particular name. Hasbi got out of the shower, wrapping the towel around his waist, not answering. His wet hand brushed the steamed surface of the bathroom mirror lightly, trying to get a clear look of himself.
> 
> _“Hasbi.”_
> 
> The voice called again — Hasbi still refusing to answer, he knew exactly what that tone meant; impending argument, one that he was in no mood of getting involved in. It was probably about last night — Dirga had asked Hasbi to come to a gala in the parliament, but the gala went on til so late and Hasbi was practically left alone by himself at the bar for hours while Dirga was somewhere mingling around, Hasbi got bored, he decided to take a cab and left without telling Dirga, by the time he woke up this morning, Dirga was sound asleep next to him already. Last night was already emotionally draining enough, there was no need to bring it up and ruin his morning mood. Unfortunately, Hasbi knew Dirga better than that; he wasn’t gonna just drop this without a fight, and frankly, Hasbi would do anything to stall that particular fight.
> 
> There was only so much he could do inside that bathroom even with his endless lines of grooming products, he was bound to come out sooner or later and get dressed. When he opened the door to the bedroom, he found Dirga sitting on the edge of the bed, the man looked up at his presence.
> 
> “Ada apa, mas?” Hasbi managed a composed tone of speech.
> 
> There was a brief pause, Dirga eyeing him in silence, “oh, masih punya telinga rupanya?”
> 
> “Ada apa, mas?” Hasbi repeated his question, not fazed by Dirga clear sarcastic mark.
> 
> “Ghazul itu siapa?”
> 
> Hasbi raised his eyebrow in confusion, for a moment not understanding the question Dirga just threw. Then, a split second later, it came to mind, Hasbi’s eyes darting directly into the thing Dirga was cradling in his hand; his phone. He bolted across the room and snatch it away from the other man.
> 
> “Mas ngapain buka-buka ponsel saya?” his voice rising in the breach of privacy.
> 
> Dirga stood up, levelling himself with the younger one, “jawab dulu pertanyaan saya,” he said, calm yet assertive, “Ghazul itu _siapa_?”
> 
> To be completely honest, even Hasbi himself didn’t really know who Ghazul was. He met the man last night at the bar, he bought Hasbi a drink and kept him company for a while. They talked and talked, about a lot of things, except work — which seemed to be the only thing Dirga was to be able to talk about this past few weeks — about their hobbies and interests, about movies and musics, it just felt like they connected right away. Last night, Hasbi was not feeling too fond of the situation, he was left hanging alone with no one for company. Then, this man came over with a long overdue glass of gin in his hand, overing some sort of comfort for Hasbi. Although, Ghazul had to left quite early in the night, so, they decided to exchange numbers. They had quite an extensive chat even after Ghazul left — then sometime around midnight, while Hasbi was on his way home in a cab, Ghazul decided to switch gears and get flirty with Hasbi. Hasbi knew well enough not to ‘play with fire’ especially with someone like Ghazul, but he was just emotionally exhausted and wanted to let loose and have some fun; so, he decided to play along. In those long exchange of messages, Ghazul managed to make Hasbi felt loved and adored, something Dirga hadn’t done in quite some times. Maybe that was why it was harder for Hasbi to walk away from the conversation.
> 
> “Mas,” Hasbi stepped in closer, locking Dirga in his eyes, “denger, kamu itu nggak ada hak buka-buka ponsel saya. Itu privasi saya.”
> 
> “Terus, kamu ada hak bertukar pesan dengan bahasa seperti itu sama orang lain?!”
> 
> Hasbi couldn’t help but flinch at Dirga’s sudden charge of emotion but he gathered himself back quickly, drawing a long breath to calm his head. 
> 
> “Ghazul itu cuma teman, mas. Baru aja kenal tadi malam,” Hasbi walked away from the quarrel, making his way to their closet at the back of the room.
> 
> Dirga scoffed at Hasbi statement, tailing behind. “Teman? Kamu pikir saya sebodoh itu, Bi? _The fuck kind of friends talk like that_?”
> 
> Hasbi kept his words to himself, scanning the hanging lines of shirt in his closet, trying to concentrate on what clothes to put on instead. 
> 
> “Hasbi.”
> 
> The blue shirt could work with his new grey trousers — or maybe he could put on a suit for today, with a tie probably?
> 
> _“Hasbi!”_
> 
> Dirga’s hand banged on the closet door; Hasbi choked on his own breath, jumped slightly in surprise. He braved himself to turn around.
> 
> “Saya nggak suka dengan cara bicara dia ke kamu di pesan-pesan itu, lebih-lebih cara mu membalasnya.”
> 
> “ _Oh_.., peduli kamu sekarang, mas?” Hasbi charged forward, cutting the distance, “semalam kemana aja kamu, hah? Lima jam, mas, _lima jam_ kamu ninggalin saya di bar — nggak sekalipun kamu menengok saya. Dan itu bukan pertama kalinya kamu ninggalin saya seperti itu.”
> 
> Hasbi ran his hands through his damp hair, getting a hold of himself, “ _so tell me, is that how it’s gonna be?_ Kita pergi ke pesta, saya menunggu di bar sedang kamu bersenang-senang sama teman-teman mu?”
> 
> “ _Hasbi_ ,” he said his own name with such an adoring tone, raising both his hand as if he was trying to paint Dirga a picture, “pacar muda anggota parlemen. _Dirga Utama’s boy toy. Is that really who I gonna be? The pretty young thing?”_
> 
> Dirga was about to speak up when Hasbi resumed his sentence, “Hasbi mencoba untuk sabar menunggu, mas. Mencoba untuk mengerti. Tapi, mas harus tahu, kesabaran Hasbi ada batasnya.”

  
  


* * *

After shower, Hasbi went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea — trying to live his normal routines despite the fact that his whole world was practically crumbling on his feet. At the very least, his kitchen stayed the same, and it gave Hasbi some sort of comfort. As he waited for the kettle to boil, he picked up the mess he made last night wallowing in tears and gin, putting back the leftover liquor back on the cabinet, setting the glasses down on the sink. On the corner of his eye, he noticed a yellow cloth pooling down the side of the refrigerator. He walked closer, picking it off the floor, then hanging it back up on the wall where it was supposed to be. Making sure everything _here_ stayed the way it was.

* * *

> The heavenly smell of spices was what woke Hasbi up from his sound sleep. Someone was making breakfast; his sleepy brain deduced. He slowly opened his eyes and found the sight of an empty bed with crumpled sheet next to him. Hasbi slide out of bed, wrapping himself up in the white sheet and dragging it along his steps out of the bedroom to the kitchen; the place where the particularly delightful smell seemed to be coming from.
> 
> Dirga was cooking, a bright yellow apron covering his front. Even though he had his back on to Hasbi, Hasbi could really tell that Dirga looked absolutely adorable in the yellow apron. Hasbi snuck his hand through the Dirga’s sides, pulling him into a hug slowly, before resting his chin on Dirga’s shoulder.
> 
> “Pagi, Mas Dirga.”
> 
> Dirga smiled, gave in to the touch, relaxing his back, “pagi, Hasbi. Nyenyak tidur mu?”
> 
> “Banget,” Hasbi closed his eyes, “makasih yang sudah buat tidur Hasbi nyenyak banget.”
> 
> The older man turned to the side, planting a soft kiss on Hasbi’s cheek, “ _anytime_.”
> 
> Hasbi stayed still, eyes shut, hands wrapping themselves tighter on Dirga’s waist. He was trying to savour the very moment, taking it all into his mind; the quiet morning, the smell of Dirga’s fried rice, the warmth of Dirga’s neck. Hasbi wanted the world to stop turning at that very second. He wanted to be here, with Dirga (and his fried rice), til the end of times.
> 
> “Enak banget bau masakannya.”
> 
> “Enak bau masakannya apa bau saya, nih?” Dirga teased.
> 
> “Masakannya lah. Kamunya sih belum mandi dari kemarin.”
> 
> “Belum mandi tapi kamu ya ndusel-ndusel ke saya gini,” Dirga had his hand brushing lightly on Hasbi’s blushing cheek.

* * *

The kettle whistled, breaking the silence of the apartment. Hasbi quickly removed it from the stove for the high pitched voice almost split his already aching head in two. Hasbi pulled out two cups and set it on the counter, putting one packet of earl grey on each, and a spoon of sugar on one of it. Hasbi poured the water slowly. Just before he poured the water to the second cup, it dawned on him. Without much thinking, he set the kettle back on the stove, then throwing the sugar filled cup into the sink in frustration.

* * *

> The sound of porcelain hitting the sink echoed the room. Followed by the sound of a clearly disturbed Hasbi cursing under his breath.
> 
> “Hasbi, saya minta maaf.”
> 
> Hasbi paid Dirga’s plead no mind, instead reaching for a clean glass off the shelf and pouring himself a stiff drink — somehow he thought this would repressed the anger building up inside. He turned around, facing Dirga, the kitchen island stood between the two of them. Hasbi’s hand loosened the tie around his neck because somehow the aforementioned anger building up inside him started to choke the air out of his throat. Hasbi downed another big gulp of gin, this time straight from the bottle to his mouth. 
> 
> “Saya minta maaf, Hasbi. Saya kira-“
> 
> “Kamu kira,” Hasbi scoffed, cutting Dirga off, “tentu saja, kamu udah mengira kan, mas? dan kamu selalu benar, _perkiraanmu_ selalu benar, begitu kan, mas?”
> 
> Dirga threw him a look of defeat, his voice slow against Hasbi sharp sarcastic quips, “kasih saya kesempatan buat menjelaskan.”
> 
> “Jelasin apa lagi sih, mas?” Hasbi slammed his glass against the island countertop, “kamu kira, kamu pikir; alasanmu selalu sama dan janji mu juga selalu sama; kamu ga akan telat lagi, kamu pasti datang ke acara selanjutnya. _Omong kosong_.”
> 
> “Bukan rencana saya juga untuk telat, Hasbi. Kamu tahu sendiri, ini pekerjaan saya akhir-akhir ini padatnya seperti apa.”
> 
> “Akhir-akhir ini? Dari tiga bulan yang lalu kamu juga bilang begini, mas. Hasbi bukannya nggak mau mengerti ya, mas. Tapi Hasbi juga lelah mengalah sama pekerjaanmu. Malam ini ulang tahun Hasbi, mas dan kamu tega mempermalukan Hasbi — memaksa Hasbi menunggu. Berjam-jam sendirian di restoran.”
> 
> “Kamu pikir saya mau harus terus-terusan ninggalin kamu? Kamu pikir saya mau harus terus-terusan berantem sama kamu? Ini bukan salah saya-“
> 
> “Tentu saja, mas. Nggak ada yang salah mu. Kan. Kamu selalu benar.”
> 
> “Bukan itu maksud saya, Bi.”
> 
> “Seandainya ya mas, kamu bisa perhatian sama saya kayak kamu perhatian sama pekerjaanmu,” Hasbi lowered his voice, gazing down, “Hasbi kangen sama Mas Dirga.”
> 
> “Saya di sini, Hasbi.”
> 
> Hasbi shook his head, “nggak mas, kamu nggak di sini. Nggak untuk Hasbi setidaknya.”

* * *

Hasbi made his way to the living room, he sat down on the sofa, nursing a cup of tea on his hand. A black screen was on display in the tv in front of him. Hasbi couldn’t help but stole a look of Dirga’s workspace at the back of the room, the place where he usually found Dirga in the morning before work, catching up on some paperwork or just checking his schedule for the day. That particular corner of the room felt dark and empty without its usual visitor much like the rest of the house in Hasbi’s eyes. 

* * *

> Dirga pushed the door open, revealing an empty apartment unit with a big window displaying a view of the city’s skylines. Dirga stepped aside, revealing the sight to Hasbi who was standing behind him. The younger man stepped in in slow steps, processing every single detail of the sight in front of him; the faded-wallpaper-covered walls, the spackled floorboards, the old-looking kitchen counters. He then turned around, facing Dirga, a mesmerised look mixed with a questioning gaze.
> 
> “Gimana?” Dirga asked, “suka?”
> 
> “I-ini?” Hasbi stuttered, struggling to comprehend the situation, “apartemen kita?”
> 
> Dirga gave Hasbi a firm nod, coming in closer to him, “ _we’ve talked a lot about moving in together right?_ dan selama ini kita belum bisa memastikan ke mana kita harus pindah; apartemenmu terlalu kecil, apartemen ku terlalu jauh. Jadi mulai dua bulan lalu saya mulai menghubungi beberapa _real estate agent_ , untuk ngebantu saya cari apartemen yang tepat buat kita — awalnya saya mau ngasih tahu kamu, tapi ntar nggak surprise jadinya.”
> 
> Hasbi was still in awe.
> 
> “Unitnya nggak baru — tapi nanti bisa kita renovasi. Mungkin sekarang kelihatan ga meyakinkan banget, tapi coba kamu bayangin-“
> 
> Dirga put his hand around Hasbi waist, directing him with his hand to look at certain corners of the room, trying to paint him a picture, “-nanti di sana bisa kita taruh sofa — di sana televisi. Lalu, di belakang sana, temboknya bisa ditutup sama rak buku dan kita taruh kursi-kursi buat tempat membaca. Wallpapernya bisa kita lepas, lalu diganti dengan cat warna kesukaanmu; hijau bukan? Dan ini-”
> 
> Dirga guided Hasbi to the side room, opening the creaky door, “-nanti jadi kamar kita. Di sana kasur, nakas, lemari,” he listed how the furniture would go on each side of the room, “mungkin juga nanti bisa kita gantung lampu di atas sana.”
> 
> “Saya sudah bayar uang mukanya; saya harap kamu suka — _it’s not much but we can work on it_ , plus, cuma 10 menit perjalanan dari kantor.”
> 
> The information was a lot to take in for Hasbi, he was still trying to process every line Dirga had said, his hands clutching the older man’s tightly.
> 
> “Tapi, kalau misalnya kamu nggak cocok-“
> 
> Hasbi cut him off, placing a kiss on his cheek then resting his head on Dirga’s shoulder, “cocok kok,mas. Cocok banget.”

* * *

This house was built of love and commitment. It was meant to be a safe haven, for both Hasbi and Dirga. A place to wind down after a long day at work, a place to take shelter from the hustle and bustle of the outside world, a place to call home. The mint green walls had bared witness to each and every one of their best nights and worst fights. Until, it came to an end.

* * *

> “Mas Dirga..”
> 
> Hasbi reached out for the hand of the man before him, but failed. Dirga pulled away from the touch, his breath trembling when he braved himself to look Hasbi in the eyes. Dirga always wondered in fear how would it feel to have Hasbi slipping out of his hands, now, the wandering had ceased; and it felt as if his ribs was inching smaller in a slow painful motion, crushing his lungs, forcing the air out of his throat to the point where it felt impossible to draw in another string of air — but apparently, it wasn’t — which somehow made it worse. As he choked on his breath, he felt the stream of tears forcing to breakthrough; he went silent.
> 
> “Mas..,” Hasbi was hesitant to take a step closer, sitting in close proximity but keeping a safe distance, “mas, _say something, please_.”
> 
> Dirga stared, still in complete silent.
> 
> “ _Please_.”
> 
> “Kamu mau saya bilang apa, Bi?” he finally spoke up.
> 
> To be completely honest with himself, Hasbi didn’t actually know what he wanted Dirga to say. It just that, he couldn’t stand looking at Dirga, stunned in silence as his insides crumble upon Hasbi’s confession, it was so heart wrenching for Hasbi that he would rather have Dirga yelling at him than a haunting silence. This was surely not the reaction he expected. Dirga was not a violent man, but he sometimes does have issues with his temper, which was maybe why Hasbi expected him to blow up in anger. 
> 
> “Ghazul?” Dirga had his eyes glued on the floor when he asked this, couldn’t bring himself to look at the younger man.
> 
> Hasbi whispered, “iya.”
> 
> Saying that kinda put things into perspective on just about how much he screwed up last night.
> 
> “ _Did you enjoy it?_ ” he looked up, trapping Hasbi in sight.
> 
> “Mas..,” Hasbi pleaded.
> 
> “Jawab pertanyaan saya, Hasbi.”
> 
> “Saya-,” Hasbi froze, of course, how could he possibly answer that question. His fingers were fidgeting, he tried to say something, anything, to break the tension slightly, but nothing came out.
> 
> A few minutes later Dirga stood up without command, making his way to the bedroom, Hasbi tailing behind. Dirga pulled out a luggage from the back of his closet, then setting it down and open on the bed.
> 
> “Mas, kamu ngapain?”
> 
> Dirga pulled out a bunch of his clothes in one swift motion then throwing it into the opened luggage, grabbing anything he could as quickly as possible; his books on the nightstand, his laptop on the desk, his products from the bedroom, he was running around the room, ignoring Hasbi’s ask. 
> 
> The, it dawned on Hasbi — Dirga was packing his stuff, rather recklessly, throwing everything into one pile of mess; he was leaving. “Mas, tolong, kasih Hasbi kesempatan-“ Hasbi inched closer, no longer minding the boundary, “Mas Dirga.”
> 
> Hasbi was, still, ignored.
> 
> Hasbi reached out to grab Dirga’s wrist, stopping him from closing his luggage, which earned a cold dart of looks from him. He begged;“Mas Dirga, jangan tinggalin Hasbi, mas. Hasbi mohon.”
> 
> “Kenapa? Kasih saya alasan untuk nggak ninggalin kamu.”
> 
> Again, he couldn’t. Because honestly, if it were Hasbi standing on Dirga’s shoes, he wouldn’t want to hang around someone who tore his heart to pieces any longer. 
> 
> “Sudah saya duga.”
> 
> Dirga turned around before reaching for the front door, “kamu perlu tahu, saya — sayang sama kamu, Hasbi dan saya rasa saya nggak akan bisa berhenti menyayangimu. dan itu justru membuat semua ini jauh lebih menyakitkan buat saya.”
> 
> “Hasbi juga sayang sama Mas Dirga.”
> 
> “Ya, tapi nggak cukup, kan? Sampai kamu merasa perlu untuk jatuh dalam pelukan orang lain?”
> 
> And with that, Dirga left, for good.

* * *

  
  
  
  



End file.
